


Mutually Assured Destruction

by deezknuts



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Ginny Weasley is hot and perfect, Harry and Hermione have a cute friendship and there should be more fics about it, Harry is a Good Friend, Hermione has anxiety in this one, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Pining, Ron Weasley is dumb but we love him anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:07:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28426752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deezknuts/pseuds/deezknuts
Summary: A collection of one-shots set during HBP following Harry and Hermione and their feelings for certain Weasleys.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32





	1. Gladrags Wizardwear

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm not sure how many chapters of this there will be or if any of them will be related but here it is! My first fic! Please be nice or I'll probably die :)

Harry woke up to the sound of the wind rattling the windowpanes in the sixth year boys dormitory, and a faint whistling from one window which had a chipped piece of glass, owing to something Neville had clumsily thrown into it on accident a few weeks ago. Harry fumbled for his glasses on the table beside the bed and after his eyes had adjusted, could make out Ron sprawled across his bed next to Harry’s, his face buried in a pillow that was muffling his snores. Harry was quite cold, and knowing that he had a nasty essay on the imperius curse due for Snape in a few days time, decided to pull on a jumper and head down to the warmth of the common room fire to get started on it. Had Hermione been awake yet, she would have cried tears of joy, as he was working on homework first thing in the morning on a Saturday, no less, but she had already finished the DADA essay, as per usual, and had told Harry that she was hoping to have a bit of a lie-in the next day. Harry suspected that the reason for this was twofold, first, she really didn’t get much sleep, and second, she wanted to avoid Ron at all costs.  
Things between Ron and Hermione since the beginning of The Lavender Situation had been absolutely painful for everyone in Gryffindor tower, but Harry felt especially put-upon having to split his time between the two of them. It was more exhausting than anything else, Harry thought, and he was starting to understand why Hermione had been so fed up with him and Ron during their brief estrangement two years ago. Today would be especially tiring, as it was a Hogsmeade weekend, and Harry had promised to visit a few shops with Ron to help him find a christmas present for Lavender, and also to run various other errands with Hermione. He supposed that this arrangement was better than the alternative, had Ron and Hermione been speaking, where Ron would probably have forced them to sneak around everywhere that Dean and Ginny went, where Hermione would have been furious on Ginny’s behalf, and Harry would be quietly miserable. Still part of him thought it really would be so much nicer if Ron and Hermione would just talk to each other again. Or if Hermione would just go on and give Ron a proper snog. Harry really thought either option would work.  
As about an hour and a half ticked by, students started to trickle downstairs on their way to breakfast, most already dressed for the walk to Hogsmeade in this windy weather. Just as Harry was finishing a paragraph explaining tactics to throw off the imperius curse, he smelled something that immediately made him perk up.  
“Morning, Harry.”  
Ginny had sunk down in the armchair next to the table where Harry was working, already clad in a scarf and one of Mrs. Weasley’s homemade jumpers from some previous Christmas. It must have been from at least two years ago, because where the jumper once hung loose and comfortable, it pulled in places and on curves that had not been there when it had been knitted.  
“Hey, Ginny.” Harry grinned at her, turning back to his essay before she could notice that he had turned pink after his train of thought.  
“Why on earth are you studying on a Saturday morning? Are you feeling all right?” Ginny leaned forward to place her hand on Harry’s forehead, taking his temperature with a look of mock concern on her face. Unfortunately for Harry, Ginny’s hand on his face meant that he was quite hot at the moment, but before she could say anything, Harry replied.  
“I suppose it makes sense with all of the time I’ve been spending with Hermione lately. It turns out she’s much more fun to be around when she’s not nagging at you to finish your homework all of the time.” Harry shrugged. He wasn’t done with the essay yet, but trying to focus on anything other than Ginny when she was right there next to him was a losing battle, and he knew it. “So, do you have hogsmeade plans for today?” He tried to make his tone as nonchalant as possible but knew that it had been tinged with hope at the thought that Ginny might say “no actually, Dean didn’t want to go today, can I go with you Harry?” A thought that Harry knew was ridiculous, but couldn’t help thinking all the same.  
“Yeah, Dean apparently has a whole date planned, but he won’t tell me what it is” Ginny picked at the hem of her sweater, which was now riding up a bit due to its size, and showing a sliver of her stomach. Harry tried to be a gentleman and returned his eyes to her face as she continued “ But I swear, if he takes me anywhere near that awful tea shop I’ll have to break up with him on the spot.”   
“Merlin, I hope he stays well clear of Madam Puddifoot’s for his sake, then.” Harry laughed. But for my sake I hope your date is full of doilies and sugary tea, he thought privately.  
“So, what about you? Is it joint custody today or are you steering clear of the sickening couple and sticking with Hermione?”  
“Joint custody, I’m afraid.” Harry wrinkled his nose. “ Yeah, I’ve got to go help Ron pick out a christmas present for Lav-Lav. She’s his girlfriend, so I don’t quite understand why I’ve got to go with him but you know what he’s like.”  
“What? Shit at buying gifts for girls?”  
“Pretty much, yeah”   
Just then, Dean walked down from the boy’s dormitories, and Harry’s good mood dissipated as he saw Dean take in Ginny in her only-a-bit-too-small sweater and grin. Ginny popped up from the chair and said goodbye to Harry, and Harry was once again left alone in the common room except for the students making their way to breakfast. Looking at the grandfather clock in the corner, Harry figured that Ron should be down soon, and passed a few minutes waiting for him by cursing himself for not being whittier when talking to Ginny a few moments ago. Why was it that it was so much harder to make banter with someone when you really wanted them to laugh?   
Harry laid his forehead on the table in defeat and let out a frustrated sigh. For all the world, his once manageable and easily ignored feelings for Ginny had him feeling like an immature idiot. Is this what normal teenagers felt like all of the time? For the first time in his adolescent life Harry felt like there was no earth-shattering crisis that needed his immediate attention, and while Voldemort loomed in the background, as he always did, now that the wizarding world had accepted his return, Harry didn’t feel like he had some mission he needed to complete at the moment. And where his obsessive world-saving tendencies had been, his new feelings for Ginny had taken up shop. Some days he felt like that was all he could ever think about. It was absolutely maddening.  
“Alright, Harry?” Ron asked, having come downstairs to see Harry with his face down on the table, the picture of frustration. Harry jerked up immediately.  
“ Never better” he smiled weakly.  
After making their way into Hogsmeade, Ron had spotted a new shop that seemed to sell a little of everything, with it’s windows full of various bits and baubles. Harry assumed that Ron really did have no inkling what Lavender would want and had dragged Harry into this store hoping that together they could canvas it, and surely find something suitable. After half an hour in the stuffy shop, they emerged with Ron holding a bag containing a bottle of cheap perfume, which smelled overpoweringly of vanilla.   
Harry had hoped that he and Ron would have at least an hour of Lavender-free time, but just then, almost as if she had learned to apparate, Lavender had appeared and was now attached to Ron via their lips. When Ron finally came up for air, he shot an apologetic look towards Harry over Lavender’s shoulder.  
“Right, well you two go off and have fun” Harry said as he tried his best to sound supportive. At this, Lavender leaned up to whisper something into Ron’s ear, after which she started giggling madly. Deciding that he did not want to know whatever definition of “fun” Lavender had fixed upon, Harry set off to find Hermione.  
He looked down at his watch. It was only about twelve thirty. So, Harry thought, too early for her to be at the three broomsticks then. So, Harry turned in the direction of Scrivenshaft’s and started off.  
Immediately after opening the door Harry could see a brown cloud of hair behind a shelf and made his way quietly over to it. Finding her engrossed in reading the label on a particularly nice quill, he leaned down until he was as close to her head as he dared.  
“That’s a nice quill.” Harry remarked, a bit louder than was necessary. But the volume had the desired effect and Hermione shrieked and jumped, reflexively punching Harry in the stomach.  
Harry’s laughter was quickly replaced by a groan as the wind was knocked out of him. You wouldn’t know by looking at her, but Hermione punched quite well.  
“Merlin, Harry don’t do that!” But what had started out as a scolding tone became a snort as she saw that Harry was still doubled over from her defensive attack. “It serves you right for sneaking up on me like that!” Hermione snickered, “ Besides, I thought I wasn’t supposed to meet you at the three broomsticks for another half hour.”  
“Well, you weren’t. But I thought that I would much rather try to find you earlier than spend another half hour with the happy couple.” He finished humorlessly.  
“Ah, I see. So you’re put out because Lav-Lav cut your boys time short, is that it?” Her expression soured considerably at the mention of Lavender.  
“Yep”  
“Well then I suppose you’re stuck with me for the rest of the day.” Hermione said absentmindedly, as she continued to inspect the quills.  
“Oi, come on Hermione I am not stuck with you. Though, in terms of our single friends the choices were you, Neville, or Luna. So you were the least of those evils.”   
Hermione hit him again, though playfully this time, as she selected an eagle feather quill and made her way up to the register.  
“Besides,” Harry continued, “you’re the easiest to track down. You’re such a freak about stationery. And didn’t you just get a new quill last week?”  
“Yes but this one has a grammar checking charm!” Hermione defended.  
“Like you would ever use incorrect grammar.”  
“You can never be too careful when it comes to syntax, Harry.” she sniffed as she grabbed her bag and they walked out the door into the street. The wind hadn’t let up and the walk to the Three Broomsticks was much colder than it should have been . By the time they made their way into the crowded pub their teeth were chattering. Hermione scanned the room with her eyes, lingering in the dark corners, checking for the two couples they really didn’t want to see. Finding the coast clear, they made their way to the bar to order their butterbeers from Rosmerta, and scored a window table where they sat down and tried to warm themselves with the drink.  
It was a good system that Harry and Hermione had worked out in the past two months. Hermione would use Harry as the sounding board for every problem she had with Lavender, and Harry would reciprocate with everything that he couldn’t stand about Dean as of late. They didn’t delve too deep into their feelings for their respective Weasleys but they had an understanding of mutually assured destruction that worked well for both of them.  
Hermione breached the subject first.  
“You know, I’m quite proud of myself for not hexing Lavender in her sleep yet-”  
“Emphasis on the yet.” Harry mumbled as Hermione pressed on.  
“-Because you know she comes into the room every night to tell Parvati the gory details of their escapades in a voice so loud it’s almost like she wants me to hear!” Hermione took an angry sip of her butterbeer. “I think it’s even wearing Parvati down.. I mean, how many ways does she really need to describe Ron’s arse, I ask you…” Hermione trailed off, slouching in her chair.  
“No, you’re right. I honestly can’t think of more than two, maybe three, poeticisms to describe Ron’s arse.” Harry nodded, hoping to at least get a chuckle out of her.  
Instead, she smiled tightly. “I can’t imagine Dean is much better.” She said, evidently ready to steer the conversation away from Ron’s arse and more towards Harry’s problems. Hermione liked to talk about Harry’s Weasley problem more frequently than her own, but Harry supposed that it made sense. Where he couldn’t help her much with Ron, Hermione was much more in her comfort zone when it came to giving Harry advice about girls.  
“Well, obviously he doesn’t say anything when Ron is in the room but when it’s just him and Seamus… it makes me want to throw him off the quidditch team first, and the astronomy tower second.” Finally, Hermione giggled, and Harry started to feel he could laugh about it too. It was nice,Harry decided, to commiserate about your personal life with your friends, instead of making plans to save the world.  
They continued for a while longer with their entertaining, though slightly bitter, conversation until a cold gust of wind hit them as the door to the three broomsticks opened. Hermione saw who it was over Harry’s shoulder and kicked him under the table.  
He turned around and saw Ginny walking toward them, alone, interestingly. Immediately his heart jumped a bit, and he felt guilty for hoping that her date had gone poorly. When Ginny reached them, she unceremoniously grabbed an extra chair from the nearest table without asking and sat at their table, shooting Harry an unimpressed look. He panicked a bit.  
“What?”  
“Three guesses where I just came from.”  
“He didn’t.”  
“Oh, but he did.” Ginny replied darkly.  
By this time Hermione had cottoned on.  
“Oh Merlin what made him think that was a good idea?”  
“Hermione,” Ginny turned to her, “answer me honestly. Do I seem like the kind of girl who would ever want to be taken to Madam Puddifoot’s?”  
“Right now you seem like you would rather have been taken on a day trip to Azkaban.” She responded with a pitying look on her face. “So, have you stormed away from Dean for the rest of the day?” Hermione asked briskly, shooting Harry a quick glance.  
“The rest of the day, the rest of the week, who knows?” Ginny sighed and crossed her arms. “However long it takes for him to work out where he mucked it up.” She turned back to Harry. “So what are you two doing today, slash, do you mind if I join you?”  
Harry’s heart soared.  
“Well we don’t really have anything to do except for a few errands, but of course you can come, right Harry?” Hermione shot Harry an infuriatingly pointed look across the table.  
“Of course!” Harry responded brightly, grinning at Ginny.  
“Well-” Ginny turned to Hermione once more “-if you two didn’t have any real plans, Hermione do you want to stop by Gladrags? I haven’t got anything to wear to Slughorn’s christmas party.”   
“Ooh, I don’t think that I have either” Hermione said thoughtfully. “Harry, do you mind if we pop in for a bit? You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” She finished, looking at Harry apologetically. Harry snorted.  
“And I would what? Go spend time with Ron and She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? No, I think I would much rather fancy coming on the girls shopping trip, thank you.” The girls giggled at that, though Harry didn’t mind tagging along with them to Gladrags at all. It seemed to him that looking at Ginny in different dresses was a fine way to spend his afternoon.  
Quickly, they finished their drinks and made their way back outside into the biting wind, though Harry felt much warmer now than he had before.  
Soon, they were huddled in the entrance of Gladrags Wizardwear, waiting for the heating charms to take effect before removing their coats. Harry was not unaware of the fact that this allowed him to be very close to Ginny, and that she didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she was grinning up at him as she rubbed her chilled hands together, and Harry thought to himself that he actually might never want to be further away from her ever again. It took Harry a moment to realize that the moment had gone on a bit longer than he had intended.  
“Oh Ginny come look at this one!” Hermione called from behind them, further into the store. As Ginny met Hermione where she stood, and started inspecting the dress she had pointed out, Hermione took the opportunity to flash an unimpressed expression towards Harry.  
“Very subtle” she mouthed, making an OK sign with her hand. Harry rolled his eyes.  
“Shut up.” He mouthed back. Hermione turned back towards the dress, a self-satisfied expression in place.  
Ginny, having missed their small exchange, turned to ask Hermione if she thought the color of this dress would look nice with her hair, and Harry really couldn’t care less about the finer points of choosing a dress, so he tuned out and opted to help carry the things that each girl had picked out.  
By the time that they had made their way through the racks of dresses, Harry had been weighed down by layers of tulle and satin, and was only too glad to hand the dresses to the young and wispy witch stationed outside of the fitting rooms. As Hermione and Ginny disappeared behind curtains, Harry sat on the small bench next to the large mirror, tucking a leg up under his chin and picking at the hem of his trousers. It took a few minutes, but soon Hermione emerged in a dark purple dress made of some thin fabric that hung lightly in the air. She walked over to the mirror and spent a moment inspecting her reflection before turning to Harry with an expectant look on her face.  
“Well?”  
“Well what?”  
“Well what do you think?” she said exasperatedly.  
“Oh er..” Harry really was more out of his depth than he had anticipated. “It’s very nice?” Well, he had tried.  
“Is that it?”  
“Well, I’m just not exactly sure what I’m supposed to say.” He answered honestly.  
“Okay well, I’m not sure that I’m sold on it.” She continued to fix upon her reflection. “It seems a bit too ruffly for me, don’t you think?”  
“Oh yeah, for sure.” Harry agreed solemnly. Hermione glanced at him.  
“Are you just going to agree with everything I say?”  
“That was my plan yeah” He smiled as Hermione gave another exasperated sigh and shook her head.  
“Ginny?” Hermione called.  
“Oh Hermione I’m almost ready, could you come in here and zip me up, please?” Ginny responded from behind her thick curtain. Hermione padded over in her socks and slipped into Ginny’s cubicle, leaving Harry alone again.  
A moment later the two of them emerged, Ginny wearing a black satin dress which while modest, was somehow still undoubtedly sexy. In that moment Ginny Weasley was the most captivating creature he had ever seen, and he could have kicked himself for ever thinking otherwise.  
Ginny followed the same protocol as Hermione had, and spent a moment evaluating herself in the mirror before turning to Harry with the same expectant look that Hermione had worn.  
“Honestly, Ginny? You look cool. Like really cool.” Harry didn’t much care if he sounded like an idiot if he was honest, it was true. The dress was made entirely of smooth black satin, with long sleeves that puffed elegantly at her wrist and a skirt that flared out from her waist to just above her knee. But the best part, in Harry’s opinion, was the neckline which was a deep v neck, descending far below any neckline he had seen her wear in the past. In that dress she looked like she could kick Harry’s ass, and he found that he was not upset in the slightest. Ginny beamed back at him.  
“Really? Good, because I think so too.” She turned towards Hermione to ask her opinion. Hermione appraised her for a moment.  
“Hmm.. I don’t know Ginny it’s awfully low cut, and somehow I don’t think your mother would like it very much” she cautioned.  
“Well then, it’s a good thing it’s not her dress. Because I have decided that I do like it very much” Ginny grinned wickedly at Harry. His face heated up immediately. “I think I’ll get this one” she declared.  
“On your own head be it then.” Hermione smiled as she disappeared back into her cubicle to try on another dress.  
Ginny spent a few more seconds admiring herself in the mirror before turning back to her cubicle to change out of the dress. But before she slipped behind the curtain she paused and turned back to face Harry.  
“Oh Harry, could you come unzip me please?”  
Merlin.  
It was a totally innocent request, but how was Ginny supposed to know that Harry was barely maintaining his composure around her as it was? But with no alternative, Harry grit his teeth and willed himself not to say- or do- anything completely stupid.  
The zipper was quite small, so it took him a few moments of fumbling with it until it slid smoothly down the length of Ginny’s back. As soon as the back of the dress was sufficiently open, Harry ripped his hands away from Ginny’s back as if he were touching hot coals. Ginny thanked him and popped behind the curtain as Harry just stood there, fingers still tingling. Not wanting to look suspicious whenever one of them returned, Harry resumed his position on the bench and waited for Hermione.  
She walked out of her cubicle, this time, in a deep red dress made of what Harry knew to be velvet. This dress had far fewer frills than the first, but was a bit more revealing than the last dress had been. The straps went off of Hermione’s shoulder, across her chest just beneath her collarbone, and met at the slight dip in the middle with a delicate curve. It continued downward with a fitted torso, and descended just a bit lower than Ginny’s had done. By most standards it was quite a prim and proper dress, but by Hermione’s standards it was absolutely daring. She looked a bit nervous once she looked towards Harry for his opinion.  
“Okay..” Harry started, still unsure as to what he was supposed to be saying about each dress, “well I definitely think it suits you more than the last one. It’s a nice color” Harry finished.  
Hermione seemed pleased with that response but returned to her reflection, turning to inspect different angles.  
“Do you think…” she trailed off “...nevermind.”  
“No what were you going to say?” Hermione only bit her lip in response. “Oh come on, just say it I won’t laugh.”  
“Well… what do you think… Ron would think?” Hermione flushed and looked away.  
“Merlin Hermione I don’t know. But I really don’t think you should worry about that. Shouldn’t you buy a dress because you like it?”  
“Well yes, I just mean…” Hermione sighed and said in a much quieter voice “If Ginny were wearing something like this would it make you look at her?”  
Oh, so that’s what this was about.  
“Oh, well, erm… really I don’t think it would matter what she was wearing… I’d probably still be staring at her like a lunatic” Harry admitted, sheepishly.  
Just then the sound of the bell at the front of the store rang out, as well as a girlish giggle that Harry knew all too well. He and Hermione wheeled around to find Ron and Lavender standing on the other side of the shop, Lavender already engrossed in the nearest rack of clothes, and Ron frozen where he stood, staring straight at Hermione.  
The moment was a bit too long for comfort  
“I think you’ve got your answer” Harry muttered as quietly as he could. Hermione elbowed him and swiftly turned around.  
“Fantastic. I’ll buy it.” And with that she disappeared back into her cubicle.  
No more than five seconds later, Ginny finally emerged from her curtain, carrying her dress in one hand, and massaging her earlobe with the other.  
“Sorry I took so long, I got my earring caught on my jumper trying to put it back on.” Ginny looked around, noticing the addition of Ron and Lavender, and the absence of Hermione. “Oh god, what’s my idiot brother done now?”  
“Nothing, he’s just walked in… but I think he quite liked Hermione’s last dress” Harry finished with a meaningful look towards Ginny. A look of understanding crossed her face and she nodded slowly.  
“I’m sorry I missed that. So, what did it look like?” Ginny asked as Lavender dragged Ron into the furthest corner from where they were standing.  
“Well Ron looked a bit like a fish with the way he was gaping-”  
“The dress, Harry.”  
“Oh right…” Harry paused. “Red?”  
“Right that’s very helpful.” Ginny giggled and headed over towards the register with her dress.  
Across the room Ron was staring Harry down, with a look that so clearly said please help me that Harry took pity on him and made his way over.  
“Oh hello, Harry!” Lavender had evidently only just now seen him. “What are you doing here?”  
“Hi Lavender, yeah I just got dragged into dress shopping… Ginny and Hermione needed something for Slughorn’s christmas party so… yeah” Harry finished lamely.  
“Ugh, I wish I could go. I still think it’s an absolute crime that he won’t invite Ron to any of his events.” Lavender complained.  
That, Harry had to admit, he did agree with. He never understood why Ron hadn’t ever received a Slug Club invitation. Up until this year, the three of them had always been a package deal.  
“It’s not as if I really want to go to any of those parties anyway” Ron said, but he didn’t sound very convincing. “I mean, I would have to wear those dodgy dress robes again wouldn’t I? So for the best, really.”   
“Well” started Harry, throwing his hands up in mock defeat “there goes my brilliant plan to take you as my date.”  
“Very funny Harry” Ron looked over Harry’s shoulder, distracted. Harry looked around to see Hermione walking across the shop to the register, dress in hand, steadfastly ignoring Ron. Harry attempted to get his attention back before Lavender noticed that Ron was staring at a girl that wasn’t her.  
“But really I do need to find someone to go with. Any ideas?” He asked Ron. Ron thought for a moment before answering.  
“There’s that Vane girl who’s obsessed with you. I mean, sure she’s a bit mental, but she’s pretty enough.” Harry was appalled.  
“No! Absolutely not. Besides, she’s in fourth year which just feels… a little young doesn’t it? I don’t want to rob the cradle.”  
Ron nodded  
“Yeah that’s true. I s’pose fifth year is fine though right? That seems reasonable.”  
Harry was inclined to agree with Ron, as Ginny and Hermione walked out of the shop, Ginny jerking her head to indicate that he should meet them outside, and Hermione staring straight forward, taking no notice of their corner of the store whatsoever.  
“Sorry Ron, but I think that’s my cue to leave.” Harry clapped Ron on the shoulder. “You two have fun though.” And with that, Harry scrambled out of the shop and into the street where Hermione and Ginny were waiting, and they traipsed back up to the top of the street.  
Where stupid Dean Thomas was waiting.  
Ginny let out a puff of breath.  
“I guess I better go make up with Dean. Especially as it seems that he’s got a packet of Fizzing Whizzbees there that I’m guessing has my name on it” Ginny smiled. “Thanks for letting me hang out with you guys today it was fun! I’ll see you later!” And before Harry could say anything she bounded across the street to reunite with her boyfriend. All of a sudden Harry was very cold.  
“I think I want to head back to the castle. What about you?” Harry didn’t even bother trying to hide the dejected tone in his voice.  
“I think you’ve got the right idea.” Hermione spoke for the first time since leaving the shop. “Maybe then you can finally get started on that Imperius Curse Essay.”  
“Actually, I’ve almost finished it. I got started on it this morning.”  
Hermione looked supremely impressed.  
“Well then… exploding snap?”   
Harry nodded fervently and they started to trudge back to the castle, headlong into the wind.

As Harry laid in his bed staring at the curtain hangings that night, he swore he could still feel his fingers tingling where they had touched Ginny’s bare skin hours before. And it gave him a small amount of comfort to know that if he were ever to take Ginny on a date, he knew her well enough to never take her anywhere near Madam Puddifoot’s.


	2. An Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's POV after catching Ron and Lavender snogging in the common room after the first quidditch game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit shorter and I think I started it and accidentally wrote Hermione as having anxiety... but I think it works so I'm keeping it! I've also lifted some dialogue directly from the book so I would say "teehee I don't own it" but jkr is a terf so you know what I do own it as far as I'm concerned. It turns out I really enjoy writing, so I have a ton of ideas for more chapters and new fics! Thanks for everyone who left a kudos!

Hermione sat on the teacher’s desk in the empty classroom, staring determinedly at her knees. A tear fell, staining her jeans, and after a few moments that tear was followed by another, and another, and all of a sudden Hermione was crying harder than she had since the ministry ordeal last spring. And all over a stupid boy. But Ron Weasley wasn’t just any stupid boy, he was the king of stupid boys. Hermione had always known Ron to be quite thick when it came to girls and anything requiring emotional acuity, but it seemed to her that after five years Ron should at least be able to understand her, and potentially recognize the fact that she was head over heels in love with him, the stupid prat.

When she had awoken this morning, Hermione had decided that if Gryffindor won the quidditch game, the afterparty presented the perfect opportunity to officially ask Ron to go with her to Slughorn’s christmas party. Of course when she first mentioned the idea in Herbology, Ron had been a bit vicious about it, but Hermione at least knew him well enough to know that he was just hurt to be excluded from the invitation list by Slughorn and that his anger had nothing to do with her, though she received the business end of it. In fact, Ron had been treating her coldly for weeks, and Hermione could not work out what she had done to upset him. She had even tried wheedling the truth out of Harry but he either didn’t know, or was being a far too convincing liar.

It had been a very jarring shift for Hermione, who felt as though she and Ron were finally having the easy relationship that she had always wanted with him, the kind that she had with Harry, or Ginny, where they weren’t constantly at each other’s throats. Hermione even thought that Ron had been flirting with her a bit, but of course when he had started giving her the cold shoulder, the rational voice in her head was very insistent that she would only ever be a friend to him. Still, unbidden, the small optimistic voice that reminded her of her mum would creep into her consciousness just as she fell asleep, and would tell Hermione that maybe she wasn’t imagining things. So, when Hermione went down to breakfast on the morning of the first quidditch game of the season, she had hoped that later, in the glow of victory —and perhaps a little bit of firewhiskey— she and Ron could make up.

Or maybe do a bit more than make up. There was that annoying voice again, reminding Hermione of what she really wanted, but couldn’t have.

But two minutes later it didn’t matter because Harry, the reckless idiot, had poured felix felicis into Ron’s pumpkin juice, and she had a far more pressing moral crisis on her hands than her prospective snog with Ron in a few hours' time.

Shit.

Hermione’s anger with Harry had dissipated immediately after he had explained that there was no potion in Ron’s drink at all, and she felt a brief spark of pride in her friend for doing something so clever, just before everything went sour again. Hermione’s new efforts to repair her relationship with Ron weren’t going well at all and she fumed at the thought that Ron would choose to misunderstand her so deliberately. She began trudging back to the castle from the locker rooms off of the quidditch pitch.

“ Of course I didn’t mean that he needs felix felicis to play so well, if anything I’m incredibly impressed with him and-” Hermione cut her thoughts off abruptly. She was starting to think in run-on sentences, which she knew would only lead her into a spiral of anxiety-laden thoughts, leaving her with nothing but a creeping sense of dread and a splitting headache, or worse, reduced to tears and gasping for air while someone found a calming draught for her. Over the years she had learnt that it was better to try and quiet her mind— to think about something else. She flicked through her thoughts for something that could keep her mind suitably occupied for the rest of the walk to the common room.

Ah, she thought, that should keep me properly entertained.

While Ron had been punishing Hermione for whatever offense she had committed, she had drawn closer to Harry who, with the exception of last year, was less likely to bite Hermione’s head off. In doing so, Hermione had begun to notice a marked shift in the way that he spoke to, and treated, one Ginny Weasley. It was Harry’s first day at the Burrow over the summer that she had noticed the almost imperceptible change, and it took a few more weeks to be sure that she wasn’t imagining things. But no, she was positive that Harry was beginning to see Ginny as more than just Ron’s little sister. And even if Harry hadn’t been pining away for his crush for the better part of three years, it gave Hermione some comfort to know that someone else was a bit miserable as well.

By this time Hermione was nearing the portrait hole, and she couldn’t put off thinking of her conversation with Ron any longer.

“I’m sorry for whatever I did, you’re brilliant, please can we be friends again” Hermione mumbled under her breath, practice makes perfect, she always thought.

Hermione steeled herself for whatever awkward conversation she was about to have inside and climbed through the portrait hole. Her eyes scanned the crowd, Ginny on her way to the corner where Dean stood, Harry was standing near the drinks table with a shocked look on his face, and Ron—

Hermione felt all of the breath be sucked out of her lungs. Ron was kissing Lavender Brown.

The deafening silence that Hermione had felt for a moment was suddenly replaced by a flurry of voices in her head, some screaming, some whispering, speaking over each other.

“That’s what you get for being so frigid!— you know Ron never did feel that way about you, it’s silly that you thought he could— well of course he doesn’t want you, I mean, who would?” the cacophony of voices seemed to echo inside her skull, and though she knew that these thoughts were irrational, knew that they weren’t true, she couldn’t stop the sob that escaped her as she turned tail and clambered out of the portrait hole as fast as she could.

As she ran blindly down a corridor, all thoughts of reconciliation vanished, Hermione couldn’t get the image of Ron and Lavender out of her head. One of his hands on the small of her back, the other cupped around her neck. Lavender enveloped in the strong arms that she had been dreaming about for years. It just wasn’t fair. She tried in vain to banish the picture yet again, and almost let out a scream of anger, hurt, and frustration when she couldn’t. She had rounded the corner now, and ducked into the nearest classroom before she could be spotted.

The shouting voices had not subsided, and as Hermione sat on the deserted teacher’s desk, she tried to think of ways to quiet her mind.

“That’s all I really need,” Hermione reasoned, “I just need some quiet so I can relax and think about this rationally.” Hermione tried a few deep breaths before mentally running through a list of spells that might distract her long enough to calm down.

Still trying to breathe deeply, though being wracked by sobs every few seconds, Hermione transfigured five perfect yellow canaries out of thin air, watching them fly around the room. Their movements were fluid and perfectly coordinated, and Hermione found herself transfixed by them. Slowly, her heart rate subsided, and her breath started to come easier.

“Hermione?” It was Harry’s voice coming from the door.

“Oh, hello, Harry,” Hermione hastily wiped the tears from her cheeks as she replied. “I was just practicing.” She still sounded like she had been crying.

Harry mumbled that the birds looked very good, but Hermione didn’t really hear him. The reappearance of one friend made her too aware of the lack of the other, and though she knew that Harry wasn’t especially tactful with emotions, she also knew that she needed to talk to someone right now, or she’d probably explode.

Typically this was the sort of thing she would want to speak to Ginny about, but it wasn’t usually the case that Hermione was reduced to tears by Ron’s behavior, and there was nowhere she could talk to Ginny in the girl’s dormitories without the risk of Lavender hearing about it. And besides, wasn’t Harry her best friend? Why shouldn’t she talk to him, just because he was a boy?

“Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations.” Her voice was thin.

“Er… does he?” Harry replied, weakly. Hermione didn’t exactly have the patience to deal with any beating around the bush so she decided to be blunt.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t see him. He wasn’t exactly hiding it, was—” but again Hermione was interrupted, as the door flew open, and Hermione was greeted with the last two people she wanted to see right now.

“Oh” Ron said, dumbly, as Lavender quickly slid out of the room. “Hi, Harry! Wondered where you’d got to!”

Right then, Hermione wanted nothing more than for Ron to feel just as bad as she did right now, or at least, to understand the sort of pain he put her through on a daily basis, with every unkind remark and thoughtless word he uttered.

“You shouldn’t leave Lavender outside, she’ll wonder where you’ve gone,” Hermione said, quietly, devoid of emotion, as she quickly crossed the room, trying to get as far away from Ron as possible before turning around. “Oppugno!”

Hermione watched as her beautiful birds descended on Ron, scratching and pecking and tearing at the skin on Ron’s forearms. She didn’t feel the least bit of regret as she slammed the door and quickly walked to someplace where she really wouldn’t be found. Only a moment ago she had been ready to talk to Harry, but Ron’s reappearance had renewed her anger.

Besides, Hermione thought, Harry is Ron’s best friend, he’s always cared about Ron more. He only went to find you because he feels bad.

But no sooner had she turned the corner than she heard footsteps jogging behind her.

“Go away, I don’t want to talk to you, “ Hermione said thickly as tears threatened to fall again.

“No, Hermione I won’t go away, “ it was Harry, “because you’ll only make yourself miserable if I leave you alone.”

“Maybe I want to be miserable, Harry! You have no room to talk, you spent almost all of last year brooding by yourself-” she was raising her voice now,”- so excuse me if for once, I just want to be left alone!” She turned away from Harry, tears falling freely now. She put her back to the cold stone wall and slid onto the floor, gathering her legs up against her chest, and putting her head between her knees as she shook.

Not a moment later she felt Harry sink down beside her.

“I know Hermione,” Harry said after a long pause, “and I’m really sorry. You were just trying to be a good friend and I shouldn’t have pushed you away.” He really did sound apologetic. “Which is why I’m not leaving you alone. If you’re going to be miserable, I suppose we’ll just have to be miserable together,” he finished, resolute.

Hermione lifted her head to look at him, surprised that Harry of all people was actively choosing to stick it out with a crying girl, one species that he didn’t have such a good track record with. Hermione laughed a little bit despite herself.

“What?” Harry looked a bit put out that she was laughing at his efforts to be a good friend.

“Nothing, Harry.” She smiled a bit, though she was still crying. “I really do appreciate that you’re here, it’s just…” Hermione paused, “ I don’t think this is really something that you want to talk about with me, that’s all.” Her insecurity returned, and she knew that though Harry was her best friend, Ron always came first for him, and he wouldn’t want to have this conversation with her.

“Really? Because I wouldn’t have followed you out of the common room if I wasn’t prepared to talk about the fact that you’re madly in love with Ron,” Harry said, quite bluntly. Hermione’s head shot up again to look at him. She stared at him, alarmed, for a few moments. “Oh come off it Hermione, I spend all of my free time with you two! Even if I am massively thick when it comes to things like this, I think I would know if one of my best friends fancied the other one.” Harry smiled at her, melancholically, “I think you should give me a bit more credit.”

For a brief moment, Hermione was touched that Harry really was here to talk to her and that he understood, but then choked sob made its way out of her throat and her tears continued with renewed ferocity.

“Oh shit, what did I say?” Harry asked as he awkwardly wrapped an arm around her shoulders, which were shaking with sobs.

“N-n-nothing,” Hermione choked out, now crying unashamedly into Harry’s shoulder “you’re just completely right-” hermione gulped in air “-and I feel like a fucking fool- and he doesn’t even care enough to be fucking nice to me, let alone feel the same way back and-”

“Hey-” Harry cut her off. He was taken aback by Hermione’s cursing, which was a rare occurrence, but for her to swear twice in one breath meant that she was approaching the point where her thoughts moved too fast for her to keep up with, and as her breathing was coming faster and faster, Harry knew he had to calm her down before it became necessary to take her to Madam Pomfrey for a calming draught. “-stop talking, just take some deep breaths, okay?” Harry watched to make sure she did so, her breath catching as she breathed deeply as an effect of her continued sobbing.

After a few moments of continued deep breathing, Harry felt Hermione’s shoulders relax, and watched as she leaned her head back against the corridor wall and closed her eyes. Privately, Harry was quite proud with himself for talking Hermione down from her panic attack, and he extricated his arm from around her shoulders and stood up.

“We’ve still got about an hour until curfew,” he said as he checked his watch, “how about we head down to the kitchens?”

Hermione nodded and shakily pulled herself up, realizing now that she was extremely thirsty and a headache was blooming behind her eyes.

“Sorry,” Hermione mumbled as they walked quietly down the hall. “I didn’t mean to fall apart on you like that.”

“Hermione, its fine. I’d much rather you do it with me than by yourself,” Harry assured her.

Hermione could hear the tone that Harry took when he became protective. Not for the first time, Hermione was very glad of Harry’s protective instincts, and she marveled at the fact that she had him around. As a child, Hermione had been friendless and ostracized, and she had never dreamed that she could one day have a best friend who was almost like a brother to her. Scratch almost, Harry was her brother in every way that mattered. He looked out for her and she would continue to look out for him, blood relation be damned.

As they approached the final set of stairs before the kitchens, Hermione pulled out of her reverie, which had calmed her down marvelously, and looked at Harry again.

“I know you didn’t want to tell me before but… I just want to know what I did that made Ron so angry.” Hermione sighed deeply and wrapped her arms around herself as she walked.

“Er… well,” Harry looked very uncomfortable, “do you remember when Ron and Ginny had that great row about-” Harry paused “-her and Dean snogging in the hidden passage?” Hermione did not miss the look on Harry’s face as he recounted the memory, but instead nodded for him to continue. “Well, Ginny brought up the fact that I had snogged Cho, and that… well, that you had probably snogged Krum.” Harry finished, looking ahead.

“What?” Hermione was lost, why would that have made Ron so angry with her? “I still don’t understand.”

“Hermione, I think it really upset him to think about you snogging someone.” Harry explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well,” Hermione sniffed, “I don’t see why! It was almost two years ago, and it’s really not any of his business!”

It obviously didn’t matter enough to him to do anything about it, she thought.

“Sure,” Harry began, “but that doesn’t mean it didn’t still upset him. I mean, just think about how angry you were about him and Lavender back there, I mean when we saw Dean and Ginny I-” Harry stopped abruptly, coloring a shade of red that rivaled any Weasley.

Hermione couldn’t help but be a little cheered by this. There was the distraction she needed.

“Relax, Harry. I know.” They had reached the painting of the bowl of fruit.

“Know what? There isn’t anything to know-” Harry tried to defend himself, but Hermione knew better.

“Harry,” she cut him off, “I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

Harry didn’t respond for a long moment while they lingered outside of the door to the kitchens.

“It doesn’t even matter. “ Harry looked determinedly at the floor. “She’s with Dean and besides, she’s Ron’s sister…” Harry shrugged sadly, “there’s really nothing I can do.”

Hermione finally pushed open the door to the kitchens, and they walked inside, greeting Dobby who raced up to them eagerly.

“Hello, Dobby,” Hermione greeted the elf kindly.

“Do you think we could snag two hot chocolates, Dobby?” Harry asked, a smile plastered in place, shaking his hand in greeting.

“Why, of course, Mr. Harry Potter, sir!” Dobby responded, bustling away to make the drinks.

Harry leaned against one of the counters and Hermione followed suit.

“Well, how long has it been?”

“What?”

“How long have you fancied Ginny?” Hermione asked tentatively.

“Oh…” Harry blushed again. “I only worked it out a few weeks ago but... I’ve probably liked her since the start of term the more that I think about it,” Harry admitted, incredibly embarrassed.

Dobby had just returned with their hot chocolates. They thanked him and started sipping the pleasantly hot drink.

“I thought as much,” Hermione nodded sagely, “but as it’s only been a few months, maybe you can try to move past it without it becoming horribly embarrassing for all of us like it was with Cho.” Hermione had intended for this to be a joke, but she couldn’t hide her disdain for Cho. She had been alright, but Hermione had known all along that she and Harry would never work out. But Harry didn’t laugh or even smile.

“It’s not like it was with Cho,” Harry responded quietly. He was staring into his mug of cocoa, and refusing to look at Hermione.

Oh. Hermione felt a surge of sympathy for her friend. It had obviously been something that he didn’t want to admit to, but needed to get off of his chest. She felt a bit guilty, but it made her very happy that Harry had shared something with her that he just couldn’t with Ron.

“So we’re both miserable?” Hermione asked with a small smile. Thankfully, Harry smiled thinly back.

“It certainly seems like it.” He conceded. “You wouldn’t say anything to her, would you?” He added, with mild panic.

“Of course not!” Hermione said, affronted. “But you also can’t repeat any of what I’ve said to Ron.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Harry agreed.

“Well then, you know you can talk to me about this whenever you need to right?” Hermione looked at Harry sincerely. “Merlin knows you need all the help you can get with girls.”

“I’m not that bad! I could be Ron.” Harry reasoned.

“That’s true… he’s about as bad as it gets, isn’t he?” Hermione’s tone was bitter.

“As much as I love Ron, I really am angry with him for the way he’s been treating you, and I’ve told him as much,” Harry said, sincerely. Hermione was touched that Harry would stand up for her to Ron.

“Thanks, Harry.” Hermione put her empty mug down and wrapped her arms around Harry in a hug. “That really means a lot.”

“So I know that I’m rubbish at this kind of thing but, I’m still here if you ever need to talk,” he mumbled into her hair, which had completely enveloped his face. “I mean, I’ll probably just sit there and I won’t be helpful at all… but still,” Harry continued.

“I know,” Hermione said as she pulled back. “Come on, curfew is in a few minutes and we should get back to the common room.” Hermione rubbed her temples where her headache resided. “I don’t have the energy to tell anyone off tonight. I think I’ll just sneak some firewhiskey if there’s any left upstairs, and I’ll thank you for not saying anything about it,” Hermione cut Harry off as he had just opened his mouth to speak. “I’m of age, and I’m heartbroken. I’m allowed to drown my sorrows for once.”

Hermione started to walk out of the kitchen, saying farewell to Dobby, and Harry followed suit behind her. A bit of the weight that had been on her shoulders all day had been lifted. It just made her feel a little bit lighter now that there was someone else who understood exactly what a Weasley could put your heart through.


	3. Romilda Vane and the Ethics of Drugging Your Peers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione doesn't take roofies lightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen a few versions of this missing moment, but here is mine! I hope you guys like it, because I plan on doing a sort of companion chapter from Harry's pov next about Hermione and Cormac McLaggen. There's some more dialogue lifted directly from the book, which of course I do not own, as that is the exclusive property of Hatsune Miku.

Hermione was picking at the last of her food in the great hall, trying to avoid looking at Ron, who sat about ten feet down the Gryffindor table with Harry, Lavender, and Parvati. She tried to blur out her periphery, and focus only on her chicken and peas, but a loud burst of laughter from Lavender caused her to jerk her head up again. Looking their way, she saw Lavender laughing, Ron looking quite pleased with himself, and Harry and Parvati looking incredibly weary.

Harry must have seen Hermione looking their way, and shot her an apologetic glance, before Ron said something to him, capturing his attention. Hermione sighed and put down her fork.

“Alright, Hermione?” Ginny asked, plopping down next to Hermione on the bench. Hermione shrugged.

“Im fine?” It sounded more like a question. “I don’t know…” Hermione pushed the last of her food around on her plate, “I’m just a little sad about being alone over the holidays is all,” Hermione finished. Ginny frowned and propped her head up on her arm that rested on the table.

“I’m really gutted that you aren’t going to be there this year. Of course it’s rubbish for you, but just think of what I’ll have to endure without you. My mum wants Phlegm to stay with me! In my room!” Ginny looked at her as though she was greatly pained. “If there’s one thing I can never forgive my dear brother for, it's forcing me to spend this holiday without you, in my hour of greatest need,” Ginny finished dramatically, grabbing a breadstick and biting in forcefully as if to emphasize her point.

“Now that you mention it, maybe a Fleur-free holiday really is a blessing in disguise,” Hermione wrinkled her nose, “If I had to hear her criticize my hair one more time I’d take a leaf out of the grindylows’ book.” Ginny giggled, and Hermione couldn’t help but snicker. She and Ginny continued to talk about the horrors of sharing a room with Fleur until Hermione noticed suddenly that the group containing Ron and Lavender had gone, probably several minutes ago. She felt a rush of gratitude for Ginny for buoying her mood, and saving her from another night of feeling sorry for herself.

“Well, I’m sorry that I’m leaving you alone, but please write to me, I want to know every horrid thing she says.” Hermione stood up and checked her watch. “But I’ve really got to go finish up this essay for Slughorn, see you later!” 

Ginny waved her away, and quickly found another friend to strike up a conversation with. Hermione slung her bag over her shoulder and started out towards the library. About half of the way there, she realized that she needed the toilet, and cringed, realizing that as she was on the second floor, the closest bathroom was Myrtle’s. Hermione thought about perhaps going to the third floor, but it was out of the way of the library, and it wasn’t worth it, in the end. So, Hermione reluctantly pushed open the door to the second floor girl’s lavatory, a room with which she had become intimately familiar during her second year. Upon entering, Hermione found a stall, and sat her bag down on the floor inside.

Just as Hermione was about to unlock the stall door and step out after she was done, she heard the door to the loo open, and the voices of about three or four giggling girls. Hermione paused to listen.

“So, Romilda, what’s this you’re on about then,” one of the girls asked, sounding absolutely gleeful.

“Shh, Michelle, someone could hear you!” But this girl didn’t sound very serious, and the giggles were renewed.

“Relax, girls. Nobody will hear us,” said a voice with a bit of a smirk in it, “Don’t you know this is Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom? No one ever comes in here.”

“So tell us then, Romilda!” said another voice, this one tinny and really quite annoying. 

“Do you remember the perfume that I received this morning in the post?” Hermione assumed that this voice belonged to Romilda. “Well, it wasn’t really a perfume, it was only disguised to look like one. What it really is-” Romilda paused for dramatic effect “-is a love potion.” The girls gasped and tittered over by the taps, and Hermione felt a sneaking suspicion that she knew who this love potion was meant for. “And I’ve bought one for each of us!” Romilda sounded as though she thought she was giving her friends a special treat. “I wouldn’t want to have all of the fun.” Oh how Hermione wanted to burst in and hex the smirk off of her face.

“I’ve only just gotten it in the post this morning, which is perfect because Slughorn’s christmas party is tomorrow, so one of us has just got to slip it to him tonight!” Romilda sounded quite pleased with herself, and the other girls sounded awed that she would do something so daring. Hermione knew that she should exit the stall and demand that Romilda present the love potion so that she could confiscate it, as was her duty as a prefect, but she couldn’t move from her hiding place in the stall until her suspicions were confirmed.

“Just think, Romilda by this time tomorrow you could actually be going out with Harry Potter!” The annoying girl burst into a new fit of excited giggles.

Hermione had guessed that the potion was probably for Harry, but as soon as her guess was confirmed, she felt her jaw clench and anger began to rise in her throat like bile. How dare these girls try to drug her friend? How could Romilda Vane think that forcing Harry to be obsessed with her was anything like actually securing his affections? Hermione was indignant, and unable to contain herself any longer, unlocked her stall, door, grabbed her bag and strode out.

The girls were on the other side of the circular set of taps, closer to the door, but before Hermione could give them a piece of her mind, she thought she had better wash her hands. At the sound of the tap, the girls stopped giggling, but made no move to leave, evidently waiting to see who had overheard them. As Hermione washed her hands, she took deep breaths, so that she wouldn’t let her anger get the better of her, and allow her to do anything stupid. When she was done, she wiped her hands on her robes and stepped out from behind her side of the taps.

The fourth-year girls were huddled around Romilda, whose face fell when she finally saw who had been listening. Where Romilda looked angry and a bit scared, the other girls looked downright terrified. Of course the whole school knew that she and Harry were close, they had been on far too many infamous adventures, and been speculated about in too many wizarding publications, for anyone to miss the fact that Hermione Granger was very much Harry Potter’s closest female friend. Furthermore, anyone who went to Hogwarts knew that Hermione was one of the most formidable and talented witches in the whole school, and right now she was very angry.

“Fascinating plans you have, Romilda, for drugging my friend,” Hermione said, as evenly as she could manage. “Pity you weren’t a bit quieter about them.” There was no trace of pity in her voice. “Let’s have it then.” Hermione fought to keep her voice steady. “Hand it over.”

Romilda turned up her nose in defiance. “I haven’t got it. Go ahead, try and summon it!”

Hermione used a wordless accio to do just that, and was disappointed to see that Romilda was telling the truth. Whatever love potion she had wasn’t in this room, and Hermione was powerless to try and confiscate it.

“Stay out of my business, Granger. Just because he isn’t interested in you doesn’t mean that you have to keep him away from the rest of us!” Romilda looked at her smugly.

“First of all, your plans to slip an illegal love potion to my best friend are absolutely my business, and second of all, are you daft? Do you think I have to be interested in Harry to not want him to have his willpower taken away from him by some girl who he barely even knows, let alone trusts?” Hermione was absolutely indignant now. “I suppose you think it’s fine because he’s a boy don’t you?” She shook her head and continued on, “but if some bloke who you didn’t know smuggled you a love potion I’m sure you’d feel a bit differently wouldn’t you?”   
  


“That’s- that’s completely different,” Romilda spluttered.

“How? How is that different? You may just want to go to Slughorn’s christmas party with him, but if you tried to kiss him or do anything else? That’s  _ assault, Romilda.”  _ Hermione raised her wand. “And you may not have it on you now, but if you slip that love potion to Harry or anyone else I will know. And I won’t bother going through Professor McGonagall to make sure you get punished.” Hermione’s voice was no longer an angry shout, when she reached the end of her speech it was barely more than a whisper.

Romilda looked properly terrified. But, so as not to lose face in front of her friends, she stood her ground, but did not say anything else. Hermione brushed past her swiftly, and as she passed, cast another wordless spell behind her. Jets of water sprung up out of each toilet, and finding their marks, all came crashing down on the group of girls. Hermione only heard the beginnings of indignant shrieking before the door to the bathroom closed.Under other circumstances, Hermione would have felt guilty about her use of magic against other students as was against the rules, but she soothed herself by reasoning that she hadn’t technically used magic on Romilda and her friends, just the toilet water that they were now sopping wet with. Her conscience suddenly felt light as a feather. Hermione smirked to herself, though her blood was still boiling.

When Hermione reached the library, she was still seething, though the familiar and comforting atmosphere of the library helped to ease the tension in her shoulders, and after a few minutes amongst the books, her jaw gradually unclenched. She knew that nobody else understood the draw of the library, and Hermione had to admit that if your primary association of the room was with Madam Pince, she was inclined to understand. But nothing made Hermione feel quite so secure as being surrounded by all of the knowledge a person could ever wish for, and the prospect of leaving a bit cleverer than when you came in.

Half an hour ticked by until Hermione was torn away from the pages of Advanced-Potion Making by the presence of Harry. 

_ “Merlin, I don’t look forward to this conversation.”  _ Hermione thought, looking up to greet him. “Hello, Harry.”

“Hi,” Harry responded, sinking into the chair next to her. “Ron was driving me up the wall.” He sighed, exasperatedly.

“Yes, he’s very good at that.” Hermione bristled at the mention of Ron, who she had been quite happy not to think about for the past few hours. “What’s he done this time?”

“Well,” Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “he was going on about… you know.. Lavender… and well, you might have come up a bit.” Harry finished, eyeing her warily, as to gauge her reaction.

Hermione stilled, but tried to give no indication that she was perturbed otherwise. “And what did he say?” She tried to make her tone as disinterested as possible.

“He seems to think that he hasn’t done anything wrong by snogging Lavender. He can’t work out why you’re angry with him, or at least he doesn’t think you have any reason to be,” Harry tried to sound delicate, but Hermione prickled still.

“He’s at perfect liberty to kiss whoever he likes.” Hermione sniffed and turned to look back at her textbook. “I really couldn’t care less.” She knew that Harry didn’t believe her one bit (and the look on his face told her she was right) but she didn’t have the energy to open up that particular can of worms at the moment, so she habitually reverted into absolutely denying anyone who suggested that her feelings for Ron were anything more than friendly. Though Harry knew better, he sat back in his chair and drew his potions book closer, seemingly content to let the subject drop. 

Hermione was momentarily distracted by the brief mention of Ron, and no sooner had Harry opened  _ Advanced Potion Making  _ than Hermione was reminded of her experience in the bathroom earlier.

“And Incidentally, you need to be careful,” she muttered darkly, and looked at Harry meaningfully. Harry looked up from his book and rolled his eyes, immediately defensive.

“For the last time, I am not giving back this book, I’ve learned more from the Half-Blood Prince than Snape or Slughorn have taught me in-”

“I’m not talking about your stupid so-called prince!” Hermione wanted to properly scold him, but in the library her voice was little more than a whisper shout. “I’m talking about earlier.” At this, Harry looked confused. “I went into the girls’ bathroom just before I came in here, and there were about a dozen girls in there, including Romilda Vane, trying to decide how to slip you a love potion!” Hermione realized that four girls wasn’t exactly twelve, but she was sure that there were more where they came from. As she told Harry what she had heard, he visibly blanched. She did not, however, tell him about the water and the threatening, figuring that it was best to keep those particular details to herself.

“I’d just invite someone to go with you, that’ll stop all the others from thinking they’ve got a chance. It’s tomorrow night, they’re getting desperate.” Hermione finished, and Harry’s brow knitted in frustration. Harry claimed that he didn’t have anyone that he wanted to invite, and given her denial of her feelings for Ron not five minutes ago, Hermione figured that this was fair, and said nothing on the subject of Ginny.

Hermione did feel badly, because she knew that she was part of the reason that Harry was in this situation in the first place. If she hadn’t been so eager to anger Ron by her choice of date, they probably would have just gone to the party together, an altogether more agreeable alternative than Harry being drugged with love potion and Hermione spending the evening with her prospective date. As it was, Hermione hadn’t yet told Harry that she had asked Cormac McLaggen to accompany her to the party, as she knew that Harry would likely be just as irked as Ron. McLaggen hadn’t taken the rejection from the Gryffindor quidditch team well, and had taken to loudly bashing Harry, Ron, and Ginny’s quidditch skills whenever they were in earshot. Though Hermione didn’t care for quidditch, she understood enough to know that Harry and Ginny were good- not just good- but great- quidditch players, and Cormac’s outright denial of bare facts rankled her almost as much as his treatment of her friends. But a few days ago after seeing Ron and Lavender grappling each other in the common room, something reasonable inside Hermione had snapped, and she marched up to McLaggen, the absolute troll, and asked him to be her date to the party. And she had immediately regretted it.

After a few moments spent in her thoughts,Hermione abruptly snapped back to the present, where Harry was engaged in discussing his daft theories about Malfoy again. Hermione restrained herself from rolling her eyes with great difficulty.

The next quarter of an hour passed in much the same way, Harry laying out what he believed to be very convincing evidence of Malfoy’s death eater involvement, and Hermione circumventing all of it with logical explanations. Hermione really did love Harry, but  _ Merlin  _ could he be obsessive. If only he could positively channel that energy into, say, breaking up Ron and Lavender for her, she could be back to fighting Ron in the common room right now, and not debating Filch’s capabilities as a contraband-sniffer. But, she was saved from Harry’s ranting by Madam Pince, who rounded the bookshelf behind them, took one look at Harry’s copy of  _ Advanced Potion Making _ and started positively screeching at him about the moral evils of graffiti in textbooks. Hermione quickly gathered up all of her things, stuffed them into her bag, and dragged Harry out of the library, knowing that they’d be kicked out if she waited too long.

“She’ll ban you from the library if you’re not careful. Why’d you have to bring that stupid book?” Hermione smacked him on the shoulder with her own textbook before letting go of his arm.

“It’s not my fault she’s barking mad, Hermione. Or d’you think she overheard you being rude about Filch? I’ve always thought there might be something going on between them…” Harry finished, solemnly. Hermione couldn’t help but crack a grin.

“Oh ha ha,” came Hermione’s sarcastic laugh. But her annoyance had abated. “I don’t think that Filch would ever cheat on Mrs. Norris like that.” At this, Harry burst into a fit of laughter, and Hermione felt a little proud. After all, she could be funny too, if she felt like it.

“I think-” Harry struggled to speak as he was wheezing quite loudly still “-it’s less of a- a question of would Filch cheat-” the wheezing would not subside “ and more of a question of whether or not Madam Pince would survive the following attack,” Harry finally managed to finish, though his sides were beginning to hurt.

“No of course Madam Pince would be fine,” Hermione reasonably responded, “she’s a witch, and Mrs. Norris is an ordinary cat.”

“I dunno,” Harry started in mock-thoughtfulness, “ I’ve met Crookshanks and I wouldn’t fancy my odds against him.” Hermione cackled and grabbed Harry’s shoulder.

“You’ve fought a dragon, a basilisk, a handful of death eaters, and  _ Voldemort _ -” Hermione continued to giggle“- but you don’t fancy your odds against my cat?”

“I said what I said, and I stand by it.”

This launched them into a renewed fit of laughter that carried them all the way back to the common room, and Hermione was still chuckling as she opened up the portrait hole. However, no sooner had she and Harry made their way into the room than Hermione’s positive mood popped like a balloon at the sight of Ron and Lavender snogging, again. She supposed that by now she should be used to it, what with the frequency at which the couple made very public displays of themselves, but instead of the pain lessening with each exhibition, somehow, it seemed to grow exponentially. So Hermione had stuck to her strategy of avoiding it when at all possible, and turned back to Harry to tell him that she was going back to bed, when she saw Romilda Vane sauntering up to him to offer him a drink.

Anger bubbled up again in her chest as she watched Harry mutter some excuse about the drink, and Romilda, undeterred, gave him a box of chocolate cauldrons. Harry glanced at Hermione, who was seething, and extricated himself from the conversation as lightly as possible.

“I’m going to bed before I hex someone down here,” she hissed as they walked away, Hermione rubbing her temples. “And please don’t eat those, Harry.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Harry grimaced, eyeing the box in his hands with caution. With that, Hermione said goodnight to Harry and marched up the stairs to the sixth floor girl’s dormitory, where she knew that Lavender, thankfully, would not be. Finding the room devoid of Parvarti as well, she wrenched open the curtains of her bed and flung herself down on it, taking deep breaths and waiting for her anger to abate. A few moments passed. Hermione punched her pillow.

Hermione was well aware that plenty of her housemates wondered openly at her being a Gryffindor. After all, with her perfect grades, strict adherence to (most) school rules, and her mania for logic and reason, wouldn’t she be better suited to Ravenclaw? But what these housemates did not see was the absolute volatility of Hermione when she was angry. Harry and Ron, obviously, knew better than to ever underestimate her, and a select few others had figured out that for all she talked about being reasonable, and doing things by the book, Hermione could be just as reckless and bold as Godric Gryffindor himself. And so, not a minute later, and still seething with anger, Hermione was taking out her anger on a glass on her bedside table, blasting it apart and repairing it over and over again.

After the sixth time she had repaired the glass, and was getting ready to blast it again, she heard a knock on the door.

“Hermione?” It was Ginny.

“Come in.” Hermione said, putting her wand away.

“What was all that noise? It sounded like you were really letting the windows have it,” Ginny’s tone was joking, but she approached Hermione with caution. “I just came up to check that you were alright, you looked pretty hacked off when you left the common room. I would have come sooner, but Dean…” Ginny made a vague waving notion.

“Right, no- its fine.” Hermione crossed her legs on her bed to make room for Ginny to sit. “It’s actually not Ron’s fault this time.”

Ginny grinned. “That’s a first.” Hermione only hummed in response and was quiet for a few moments.

“Have you heard any interesting… talk? About Harry? In the girl’s bathrooms?” Hermione tried to keep her tone light as she studied Ginny carefully, trying to gauge her reaction.

“What? Apart from everyone suddenly fancying him like mad this year? Not really, I suppose they wouldn’t want me to hear anything too juicy though, as we’re-” Ginny stuttered, only for a moment “-as we’re friends.”

Hermione filed that stutter away. She’d come back to it later.

“Well, what about anything involving Romilda Vane and her gang of flirts?” Hermione couldn’t keep the venom out of her voice, but she didn’t need to, as at the very mention of Romilda, Ginny’s expression darkened.

“Oh, what’s that absolute cow done now? Last I heard, she was following Harry all around the castle, thinking she’d catch him under the mistletoe.” Ginny then stuck out her tongue and made a retching noise.

“Attempted to smuggle Harry a love potion, for starters,” came Hermione’s cool reply. All traces of mirth immediately left Ginny’s face, and she sat up straight, face coloring red in anger.

“What the fuck?” Ginny was furious. “He didn’t take it did he?”

“Of course not, Mad-Eye trained him better than that. Besides, I overheard her talking about it in the loo earlier today and told Harry first thing, he’s fine.” Ginny relaxed slightly after Hermione’s reassurances, but what obviously still very angry. “The thing is,” Hermione paused “I did sort of threaten them-” Ginny raised her eyebrows in surprise “-and I think that now the time has come to make good on that threat.” Once Hermione had finished, Ginny’s eyes lit up.

“What are we doing?” Ginny sounded gleeful.

“I was sort of hoping you could help me with that,” Hermione admitted, “ I know you trained with the masters.” Hermione didn’t usually care for Fred and George’s pranks, but she had to admit, they would have been dead useful right about now. But, she didn’t need them, she supposed, she had Ginny, who was the next best thing. Ginny herself was chewing her lip, seemingly in deep concentration.

“What was that spell you used on that girl last year… Mary what’s-her-face” Ginny asked. 

“Marietta Edgecombe? Oh, Ginny that’s brilliant!” Hermione couldn’t believe she hadn’t remembered that particular spell sooner “I’ve only got to sneak into the fourth-year’s room tonight to cast it… but I don’t know which bed is hers” Hermione tried to think of solutions to this particular problem when Ginny piped up.

“I’ll come with you. Demelza’s a fourth year and I’m in there all the time, I can tell you which bed is hers.” Ginny grinned, evilly. “Serves her right for trying to sneak someone a love potion. Didn’t the fourth-year lecture from McGonagall on the importance of consent teach her anything?” Ginny continued to mutter angrily under her breath about Romilda, but Hermione felt her anger ebb away, replaced by pride and excitement. Harry had stood up for her countless times, and it felt nice to return the favor.

After a few more minutes, Ginny had tired herself out, and said goodnight to Hermione, and that she would see her at three in the morning, as they had planned. After she closed the door, Hermione was by herself again, and figured that it wouldn’t be long before Lavender or Parvarti returned to their room, so she got herself ready for bed and pulled her curtains closed before she heard their voices on the other side of the door. Hermione thought about the hex she was about to perform, and the thought of sweet revenge carried her off to sleep.

The next morning, Hermione was awoken by a shrill scream from the room beneath her. She grinned. It seemed that Romilda had just woken up.

_ What a beautiful day,  _ Hermione thought.

  
  



End file.
